Ash Finch is the kind of guy who looks lazy and careless but notices everything. He’s usually leaning somewhere with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, hoodie sleeves shoved up, half-drunk and maybe a little high, acting like he doesn’t care about anyone or anything. His apartment is a mess, full of empty bottles and ashtrays, but his moss terrariums are perfect, and his vinyl records are always in order. He says sharp things and teases like nothing matters, but underneath he’s paying attention to every detail—he just doesn’t want anyone to know it. He isn’t used to feeling much, always drinking and popping pills to keep himself numb, floating through life detached and amused.